


Lemon Cakes and Other Indulgences

by lcdyofwinterfell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Cunnilingus, F/M, Lemon Cakes, NSFW, Pregnant Sansa, Smut, married!jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcdyofwinterfell/pseuds/lcdyofwinterfell
Summary: This is just a oneshot that sprung to mind, because Sansa deserves orgasms and lemon cakes - so why not allow her to have both?





	Lemon Cakes and Other Indulgences

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty! So I posted this on my tumblr - this is my first fanfic in a very long time, so some criticism is welcomed. I hope you all enjoy it, and I look forward to writing some more fics the lovely ship that is Jonsa in the future! Also: This is after Battle of the Bastards, Jonsa have married to solidify his claim on the North, he and Sansa are rulers in the North and have been married for some time.

Jon let out a sigh as he reached behind his back to undo the cloak that his wife had made for him, fingers running over the Stark sigil embedded in the leather that sat across his chest. She had made that for him before they went asking every northern Lord and Lady for help before the battle against Ramsay Bolton. The man was long gone and dead, but no matter how slightly he popped into his mind, Jon’s blood always seemed to boil at the mere thought of him. Shaking himself out of his negative thoughts, he pushed the door to his chambers open, only to find his wife and Queen seated on a chair by the fire, feet propped up on a stool as she happily chewed at what looked like lemon cakes. Half of the plate was gone already, and he could see her feet moving from side to side slightly underneath the furs draped across her lap. She was humming, and happy. 

Immediately, a warm smile formed on Jon’s plump lips as he closed the door behind him. “I see you’re feeling better, my love.” He stated, his voice low as he made his way over to a chest that they had placed at the end of their bed, putting his cloak down on it. The chest would have to be moved soon, for when the babe came, Sansa insisted that the cradle be at the foot of the bed. 

Sansa glanced up from the needle work she was doing on what seemed to be an outfit for the babe, and chuckled. “My nausea has gone away, and I felt the babe move only a few minutes ago. All is good, and besides…” She paused, glancing towards the half-filled plate beside her. “I’ve got lemon cakes, what more could a woman want?” There was a playfulness to her tone that caused Jon’s heart to jump as his fingers worked idly at taking off his belt. 

“Oh, so I see my company is not needed?” He nodded, and put his sword down on top of where he had placed his cloak. “Right then, I can just go- “Sansa cut him off with an incredulous stare before he could finish, and he let out a deep laugh, one that reached his eyes. “I was only jesting, my love.” Slowly, Jon made his way over to where his wife sat, and placed a kiss on her forehead, one that lingered there. 

Flashbacks of the kiss he had placed upon her forehead after they had won the castle came into his minds eye, and he smiled, only to crouch down, his hand resting against her growing bump. “You said the babe moved?” 

Sansa nodded, and placed what she was working down on the table on the opposite side to her, and gently took Jon’s larger hand within her own, and put it on the spot that the babe had kicked. “He kicked me right there Jon… I was telling him about Ghost and how he would go riding with you one day, and how you could teach him how to shoot an arrow… And he just – Kicked!” She explained excitedly, lazily bringing a hand up to run through her husband’s dark curls. He had been wearing it the way she liked as of late, and Sansa had to appreciate it when he was not busy with his Kingly duties. 

Her light blue eyes watched with an extraordinary amount of love as Jon’s hand began to move along her belly, his voice soft as he tried to urge their child to kick – to show his father what a warrior he might be. Sansa was not sure it would be a boy, no one would truly know until the child was born, but if her dreams were correct, it would be a boy. A boy they would name Ned, a little boy with his curls, and her eyes. 

Just as she felt Jon wanting to give up, the child moved and his face lit up, his gaze flickering to hers for a split second before returning to her swelling belly. “H-He moved” his voice sounded winded, and within a matter of seconds, there was a glassiness to them that Sansa had only seen on two occasions. Her heart clenched within her chest and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “He knows he is loved, and that you are here.” 

Jon looked up then, his gaze finding his wife’s. His heart was beating rapidly. There had been times as a child, and even a younger man when such a life had been something of a pipe dream for Jon, something that he could only conjure up whilst sleeping. Yet there he was, hand on his wife’s belly, ruling the North, with her at his side. Not able to contain himself, Jon stood and met his lips with her own, his strong hands coming to rest on either side of her face. 

She tasted of sweetness, home, and lemon cakes. Her cravings for the blasted things had been overwhelming, but suddenly, the resentment that he had for the sweet treats seemed to evaporate as the taste of them hit his tongue. His mouth opened to hers, and soon enough, a moan tumbled past her lips only to be swallowed by his mouth.  
Jon pulled back to look at Sansa, only to find her eyes half lidded but evidently darker with lust, and her lips somewhat swollen. The kiss had not been a long one, but passionate enough that it had sent a message to both of their bodies. “Sansa…” He breathed, hand slowly running through the tresses of her fire kissed hair. 

“Jon…” His name came rumbling past her lips in a moan, and all hope was lost. His lips returned to hers, and soon enough she was rising to kiss him, her hands clutching at his overcoat as his slid down her back, to rest on the globes of her bottom, squeezing them in his large calloused hands. She of course, was in a robe and a shift, but that didn’t stop her from moaning against his lips. She pulled back, to watch as her hands pushed his coat back off his shoulders. His own gaze never leaving her countenance. 

Her lips were swollen and slightly parted, her chest – which had grown bigger in size- heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Even in the dim light of the room, she looked like a goddess. “Sansa…” He mumbled, as her hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest and to his breeches, feeling his throbbing cock through the leather. “No… Let me take care of you.” She was pregnant with his child, the love of his life, and her hormones were… Well in overdrive. Often, he awoke in the middle of the night to find her fingers playing with her cunny underneath the furs while she slept, dreaming of him. 

The kisses that he gave to her nether regions never went unappreciated, and Sansa swallowed thickly as she untied her robe, her gaze moving to his as she allowed it to pool at her feet. “I want you to make love to me after Jon… I need you.” She stated breathily, as she went to move to the bed, only to find Jon’s hand on her wrist. Blue hues fell to where their skin touched, and she cocked a brow. 

“Sit in the chair, sweet one. I wish to have you here, by the hearth.” His words must have sounded like heaven to her, for Sansa’s eyes fluttered closed for a brief second as a sigh that shuddered her upper half moved through her. She gulped, and slowly, her nimble fingers lifted her shift and she sat back down in the chair she had been sitting in when he had walked in, removing the clothing she was making for their babe, before lifting her thighs so that they were on the armrest of the wooden chair. Her legs were spread, and her wet cunny was on full display. She hadn’t felt the need to wear underclothes as of late, due to what her pregnancy was doing to her body, it just made for a wet situation down below. 

A sound that was a mix between a moan and a sigh escaped Jon as he saw her essence glisten through the curls on her core. She was always so wet for him. Slowly, the King in the North knelt before his queen, his fingers running down the skin of her thighs. There were small scars randomly placed along her skin from when she had been wed to Ramsay, scars that he had since kissed, and made her forget about where they had come from. If he could, he would eradicate them from her body, but he was just a man. Gingerly, he placed a kiss to one of the scars, only to then trail his kisses down the milky expanse of her thigh. 

Above him, Sansa let out a small chorus of pleased sighs. Jon had always been attentive, even in a heated moment, he had always been sure to show her affection and love, and remind her that the past was in the past, and that they were together now, that no harm would come to her. Her hand found it’s way into his hair as she felt his tongue run up along her slit, and a whimper escaped her. Her blue hues settled on his as his tongue swiped along her again, only to earn a moan from them both. 

“Gods Sansa… You taste so…” Before he could finish, a wave of lust overcame him, and he wrapped his lips around the sensitive nub at the apex of her opening, the action causing her to arch her back and give out a small cry. She was sensitive, overly so thanks to being pregnant, and the auburn-haired beauty took a deep breath, hand clenching as Jon began to work his tongue against her, moving it just right so that her hips would lift off of the chair against his face. 

“Yes Jon!” She exclaimed, bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to starve off hitting her peak. It didn’t take much nowadays, not that it didn’t take much when Jon was in control anyways. Then, she felt his tongue dip lower, against the opening to her cunny and dip in, and a low groan hit her. A pang of hunger hit her, and the woman glanced over to the lemon cakes on the plate beside her. Having her cake while Jon pleasured her? The idea was in and her hand was reaching out before she could stop herself. With one hand, firmly in Jon’s dark curls, Sansa took a bite of lemon cake, and a moan came rumbling out of her. 

Jon looked up and let out a small laugh against his wife’s wet core, and went back to work pleasuring her. If eating one of those damn cakes while he made love to her with his tongue made her feel good, then by the seven was he okay with that. The King rolled his tongue whilst it was in her, as his hand came up to hold onto her bottom – the other resting on her pelvis so that his thumb could just brush against the sensitive nub peaking out between her lips. 

Within a matter of moments, Sansa had placed the lemon cake back on the plate in which it came, and the Queen in the North peaked, the name of her husband coming out of her mouth in a scream as her hips bucked erratically against him, her juices -which were sweeter than ever- flooded his mouth, and Jon groaned, his moving against the air in reaction. It was pathetic really that just hearing her had his hips moving, but that was just an example of the power that Sansa had over him.  
Jon continued to lavish her cunny with attention as she came down from her high, her hand that wasn’t in his hair rubbing at her hardened nipples. “Oh, Jon that was…” She could barely breathe, her peak had ripped through her almost violently, and she felt as if she were a noodle. 

“Amazing? You tasted it, my love.” He whispered huskily, her essence on his lips and somewhat in his beard. Sansa brought him up to kiss her, and hummed appreciatively as she tasted herself on his lips and deepened the kiss. As their tongues met, the Queen in the North, placed her hands on his breeches and untied them, pulling them down so that they stayed at the middle of his thigh; as she wrapped her fingers around his aching member. “Now it’s your turn…” 

And with that, the King let out a growl, and picked up his wife, placing her gently on their marriage bed.


End file.
